No Place Like Home
by scgreen703
Summary: On the surface sixteen-year-old Sam Puckett appears to be a tough, sarcastic tomboy but underneath it all she's an emotional mess as she struggles to deal with her dysfunctional home life. Can anyone break that thick wall of hers? Rated T for crude humor, language, and possible substance abuse.


Authors Note: Hey guys! This is my first story on this site, sorta. I got rid of my old account on here because I didn't have any ideas or motivation to write. I thought I was completely done but I was wrong. I've been getting so many random ideas so I decided to just make a brand new account and write again. I'm so happy to be posting my first story on here! It feels so good to start fresh. I hope you enjoy reading this story.

Just to let you guys know, I'm a fashion student and college starts this week for me so I can't tell you how quick I'll update – it's all a matter of when I have the extra time.

Disclaimer: This is a complete work of fiction, there's no resemblance to actual persons or events or places. I do not own iCarly or anything else mentioned in this story.

Summary: On the surface sixteen-year-old Sam Puckett appears to be a tough, sarcastic tomboy but underneath it all she's an emotional mess as she struggles to deal with her dysfunctional home life. Can anyone break that thick wall of hers? Rated T for crude humor, language, and possible substance abuse.

**No Place Like Home**

**Chapter One **

"That's all for this episode of iCarly, tune in next week to see Gibby eat a whole jar of mayonnaise while wearing a string bikini!" Carly exclaimed brightly.

A shirtless Gibby came into view; he ran a hand over his smooth, hairless chest and said, "Don't worry, I plan to be fully waxed. Wouldn't want to scare the ladies." He gave the camera a little wink.

Sam gagged and rolled her eyes, "It's way too late for that."

Carly giggled at Sam's comment and then waved to the camera, "See you guys next week!"

"And we're clear." Freddie pressed the appropriate buttons on the camera to turn it off and carefully set it down on the equipment cart.

"Great show you guys," Carly said to them, tucking a strand of glossy brown hair behind her ear.

Sam passed the equipment cart where Freddie was typing up a storm on his laptop and flicked his neck. "Ow!" Freddie yelled, he clutched the back of his neck and glared at Sam who snickered. "You're so evil!"

"Yeah, yeah tell me something I don't know."

Carly shook her head at the two of them, a day didn't go by where Sam wasn't picking on Freddie or vice versa. She had to admit, it was very entertaining. Carly felt her PearPhone vibrate in the back of her jeans pocket, she pulled it out and unlocked the screen to read her notification.

"Uh guys, Spencer's back home with food."

Sam smiled and said, "Finally, I'm starving!"

The four of them piled onto the elevator and headed to the first floor of the apartment. When the elevator doors opened Carly's older brother Spencer greeted them, "Hey dudes and dudettes." He just got done setting the kitchen table.

"Hey Spencer," The four of them said simultaneously.

"What's for dinner?" Gibby asked.

"I brought home two buckets of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and biscuits," Spencer replied.

"Aw yeah!" Sam cheered.

She raced to the kitchen table and plopped down on one of the chairs. Sam piled her plate with fried chicken, leaving little room for anything else. But that wasn't an issue, the pieces on her plate would be gone in an instant and then she would have room for more on her plate.

"Come to mama," Sam said as she ravenously tore the crispy skin off of a drumstick.

The others laughed as they joined her at the kitchen table. She was the main reason why Spencer bought _two _buckets of chicken instead of one. As Freddie served himself some chicken he was startled when he felt something hit his cheek.

"What the hell?" Freddie dabbed his cheek and looked at the mushy white substance on his fingers. Mashed potatoes. He lifted his eyes up, "Okay, who pelted me with mashed potatoes?"

"Who do you think?" Carly said.

Freddie looked around the table and his eyes stopped at Sam who casually sucked on her fork, he glared at her. He grabbed a napkin from the center of the table and wiped any remnants of mashed potatoes on his face. "Cavemen have better table manners than you."

Sam snickered; she rolled her eyes at Freddie and ignored the little insult.

"So Spencer," Carly said, attempting to have an actual conversation as well as avoid a food fight, "Did you make progress with the new sculpture you're working on?"

Spencer nodded his head as he dug his fork in his mashed potatoes, "Yeah, I'm making a giant spork statue out of tiny sporks and it's coming together well."

Gibby smiled, "That sounds pretty cool."

The four of them continued to chat amongst themselves while they ate their dinner. All of a sudden the apartment door swung open and Mrs. Benson breezed through in her usual frantic manner.

"Fredward James Benson!" She shrieked.

"Mom?" Freddie raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"You guys really need to start locking your door," Sam mumbled with her mouth full of mood.

Carly shushed her and looked up at Mrs. Benson who was now hovering over all of them, "Um Mrs. Benson, not to be rude but what are you doing here?"

"I came here because a certain someone forgot to put on their tick lotion today," Mrs. Benson replied, narrowing her eyes at her son.

"I don't have any ticks!" Freddie exclaimed.

"You will if you don't march your butt back home and put some lotion on."

"Mom!" Freddie protested.

"March!" Mrs. Benson ordered, pointing to the apartment door.

Freddie let out a loud sigh, he pushed his plate to the side and looked at his best friends, "I'll see you guys tomorrow." He rose out of his seat and trudged out of the apartment with his mom who chirped on about the dangers of using forks while she followed him out the door.

"Man, what a crazy bitch," Sam said once the two of them were gone.

"Sam!" Carly scolded.

"What?" Sam shrugged. "You know it's true."

"Yeah, well…." Carly didn't disagree.

Mrs. Benson was a very zany, hysterical woman who always seemed to be griping over something. She was very overprotective of Freddie and it was usually over the silliest stuff like making sure he took exactly twenty-two bites of his food before swallowing. Carly and Sam were stunned when his mom bought him a car, much less trusted him behind the wheel.

"You staying the night? We can finish our homework together," Carly asked.

Sam wrinkled her nose, "Finish would imply that I actually started. No thanks, I'm gonna head home."

"Do you need a ride?" Carly asked.

Sam shook her head, "Nah I'm good."

"Oh okay, see you tomorrow then," Carly told her best friend.

Sam got up from her seat and was halfway to the door when she turned back around and grabbed one of the buckets of fried chicken on the table.

"Later," Sam waved to her friends before she finally left.

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The walk back to the Puckett's apartment wasn't that far, only about a fifteen-minute walk, twenty if the weather was crappy. Sam lived in a more run down part of Seattle. Most of the buildings in the area were boarded up or covered in graffiti, there were weeds as tall as Sam's calves that shot out of the cracks in the sidewalks which were covered with litter, and the streets were covered with giant potholes that made Spencer curse whenever he came down here.

The streetlights were on, lighting the streets as dusk was starting to set. Sam wrapped one arm around her body for warmth, her free hand holding the bucket of fried chicken. It was getting cold and the wind was starting to pick up. She wished she would have brought a jacket or borrowed one of Carly's. All she was wearing was a thin plain black crew neck t-shirt and a pair of old jeans.

Sam's piercing blue eyes looked up at the gloomy looking sky, the grey clouds looming over her signaled that a storm was about to brew. She picked up the pace; she did _not _want to be caught in this rainstorm.

She arrived at her apartment complex just in time before the rain came pouring down. Sam dug around in her jeans pocket for her apartment key. She better not have lost that damn thing again.

"Hey Puckett, lookin' good."

Sam looked up to see who was talking to her and rolled her eyes when she saw that it was one of the annoying ass dropouts that lived on her floor. He was tall, lanky, and had short brown hair.

"If you value sitting you better not say another word to me," Sam threatened.

The boy threw his hands up in the air and backed away from Sam. "Hey no need to get hostile. I just wanted to see if you wanted to spend some 'alone time' together."

Sam glared at the boy and let out a low growl at him, her teeth snarled like an angry dog.

"Okay, okay I won't bother you anymore!" The boy exclaimed in a panicked voice. He turned around and quickly walked the other direction, far away from Sam.

When Sam finally found her key she bounded up the steps to the fourth floor of the apartment. She stopped in front of apartment number 433, inserted the key into the lock, and pushed the door open. As soon as she stepped into the small two-bedroom apartment her nose was clogged with the strong stench of alcohol.

Pam Puckett, her mom, was sprawled out on the couch watching television. She drunkenly tilted her head to look up at her daughter and slightly frowned, "Look who decided to finally come home."

"I was at Carly's," Sam said simply.

The only light in the living room was coming from the television. Sam could tell from the way her mom slurred her words that she was shitfaced. When was she not though?

"She must be tired of having to see your ass everyday. I know I am," Pam said.

Sam clenched her fists but ignored the insult; any other night she would have fired back but she was exhausted tired to care right now. She made her way over to the couch, trying not to fall on her face from all of the alcohol bottles that littered the floor.

"Here," She set the bucket of fried chicken on the coffee table.

Pam looked at the food in disgust and snapped, "You expect me to eat this shit?" She smacked the bucket off of the coffee table, pieces of fried chicken scattering the floor. "You can't even bring me some actual food home, fucking worthless."

"Whatever," Sam mumbled.

She continued to ignore her mom as she fired more insults at her; complaining how incompetent she is and how she's nothing like her perfect twin sister Melanie. Sam headed straight for her room and slammed the door behind her. It was very tiny and cluttered; she didn't really bother with cleaning it. What was the point? As long as she could find her shit and there was nothing crawling around she didn't see the big deal.

It was just Sam and her mom living in this apartment together, her sister Melanie went to some fancy boarding school and was only around during the holidays and summer. Every so often one of her mom's new boyfriends would come to live with them until they got into a huge fight or the guy got arrested. Sam's dad was nowhere to be seen. She and Melanie never met their dad, as far as Sam was concerned he didn't exist.

She pulled one of the old dresser drawers open and grabbed a shirt to sleep in for the night. Sam got undressed and tossed her clothes into the corner with the rest of her dirty laundry. She slipped the t-shirt over her body and felt a bit more relaxed.

_No pants are the best pants. _She thought to herself. And bras. Nothing felt more relieving than being able to take off the booby trap and let the girls run free.

Sam climbed into her bed and shoved her earbuds into her ears, scrolling through the various artists on her PearPhone until a song caught her attention. Soon enough 'Asleep' by The Smiths started to play. Sam was startled when she heard a loud shattering noise from the living room. She turned the volume on her PearPhone down, wondering if she should get up to check on her mom.

"Damn it! I just fucking bought that today!" Pam Puckett cursed loudly from the living room.

Sam shook her head in annoyance and rolled her eyes, her mom must have dropped her cheap bottle of vodka when she went to take her billionth sip. A couple seconds later she heard her mom vomiting loudly.

It's a good thing it was a used couch. Sam lost track of how many times her mom puked on it, pissed on it, shit on it that one time on Christmas, and fucked on it with her creepy boyfriends.

Sam blasted the music on her PearPhone to drown out her mom's complaining and vomiting.

_Sing me to sleep  
__Sing me to sleep  
__I'm tired and I  
__I want to go to bed_

_Sign me to sleep  
__Sing me to sleep  
__And then leave me alone  
Don't try to wake me in the morning  
Cause I will be gone  
Don't feel bad for me  
I want you to know  
Deep in the cell of my heart  
__I will feel so glad to go_

Steven Morrissey's soft, bleak sounding voice singing the lyrics she could relate to so perfectly well was the last thing Sam heard before she finally drifted of to sleep.


End file.
